


New Beginnings

by sinfulslasher (Gaby)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, First Time, Friendship, Gen, Holidays, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5497469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaby/pseuds/sinfulslasher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen is homeless and Jared is a cold-hearted businessman who has no sympathy for the homeless. Their paths cross almost every day until suddenly, Jensen is gone, and Jared is surprised to find that he's worried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Written for iheartjohnlock as part of the spn_j2_xmas Secret Santa fic exchange, based on the prompt _Jensen’s homeless and begging on the street. Jared is a cold-hearted business man who passes by every day. Jensen starts begging in a different part of town and Jared notices his absence._
> 
> Beta by elrhiarhodan.
> 
> Disclaimer: Jared, Jensen and all the others belong to themselves. The depiction of them as characters in this story has nothing to do with the actual persons. No disrespect is intended.

Jared hated New York City.

It was too loud, too bright, too crowded, too _everything_. He was a Texan, born and raised, and while he had lived in San Antonio for most of his life, he was still a country boy at heart, needing wide open plains, nature and big skies. New York City, and most notably Manhattan, was the complete opposite.

On the other hand, the old saying, "If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere" was very true, and Jared's goal in life was _to make it_. And he was definitely on the fast track for that. Barely thirty, he was already junior executive consultant at Morgan  & Beaver Consulting, and if he played his cards right, he was going to be a big enough big-shot by forty to convince his bosses to open an office in Texas, headed by him, of course. Dallas, Houston, San Antonio--Jared didn't even care. He knew that Austin was a nice place to live, so it would also be a great location for the branch. As long as he could go back to Texas, he would be a happy camper.

Unfortunately, his brilliant career plans got stalled when he botched a job earlier in the day. He was supposed to wow a potential new client, some Brit named Sheppard, but instead of landing the account, he somehow managed to screw things up. Jared still didn't really know what had gone wrong. He only knew that Sheppard had logged out of the video conference midway through, and both Morgan and Beaver were livid.

At least his bosses were giving him a second chance. Sheppard was going to come to New York with his wife the following week to spend Christmas and New Year here. He had agreed to a personal meeting with the senior partners, and it was Jared's job to keep Sheppard's wife happy. Jared hated the idea of playing tour guide or, even worse, shopping helper for some trophy wife, but if he refused his bosses' _request_ to contribute to the success of this operation, Jared was convinced his career would be over.

And so he had to cancel his holiday plans and call his parents to explain that he wasn't going to be there when his entire family met for Christmas. It would be the very first Christmas ever that he would spend apart from his family, and the mere thought killed him. After all the stress of the last few months, he really needed some time away from Manhattan. Instead, he was going to spend his much deserved time off doing damage control.

The entire day had sucked and Jared was beyond frustrated. But there was one thing he could look forward to, and he was only a few yards away from it.

He always walked to and from work. His office at Columbus Circle was easily accessible by cab or the subway, but Jared preferred to walk the two or so miles to his apartment just off 5th Avenue, near the Museum of Modern Art. The half an hour it took him to cross Central Park was enough to help him decompress and recharge his batteries. He could leave behind the loud noises and glaring lights of the city and instead enjoy the greenery, the landscape, the surprisingly good air and the birds singing.

And right next to the park exit near 79th Street, his favorite food cart vendor sold the best soft pretzels he had ever had. The vendor was a Russian immigrant named Dmitri, though he wanted to be called Misha for some reason; a kind and friendly man who worked hard and managed to give Jared a small memory of home on a daily basis because his pretzels tasted exactly like the ones he had always eaten as a child.

Jared smiled as he rounded the corner and saw the top of the food cart. Eating one of Misha's pretzels would brighten his mood considerably.

He walked up to the cart and saw Misha leaning down to a man who was sitting a few feet away. Jared narrowed his eyes. It was the same damn homeless guy who always hovered near the food cart. Jared never saw him in the morning, but he was always there in the evening, sitting on the sidewalk, leaning against the stone wall, a guitar on his lap. Sometimes, he was playing the guitar, sometimes he was also singing. There were apparently enough tourists who fell for his mediocre performances or maybe people just felt sorry for the guy. Either way, he seemed to make money with his little show.

Misha was giving the man one of his pretzels, and Jared scowled. "Hey, Mish, got one for me, too?" He held out three one dollar bills.

Misha straightened up and looked apologetic. "I am so sorry, Mr. Jared. This was the last one." He indicated the pretzel in the homeless man's hand. "It is already late. It did not think you would come so I gave him the last one. I was going to go home in a minute."

Jared's already bad mood plummeted. "Let me get this straight. Instead of wanting to make some money, you'd rather give your food away for free?" He waved his dollar bills meaningfully.

Misha squared his shoulders. "As a matter of fact," he said, and his voice was cutting, "I am working very hard to make a better life for myself. That is why I came to America. But it is just as important to help out a friend in need." He waved at the homeless man who was chewing on a bite of pretzel. "I would rather miss out on three dollars than see a friend go hungry."

Jared's eyes narrowed at that.

"We can share if you like."

Jared's head whipped around and he stared at the homeless man who held up the pretzel, a friendly smile on his face. "I'd never eat anything that someone like you already touched," he spat nastily, turned around and stalked away, his frustration skyrocketing.

***

The next few days flew by. Jared tried his best to keep his nose clean at work--his bosses still made it clear that they were less than pleased with his performance on the Sheppard account. He even went the extra mile and began to research potentially interesting shops and galleries for Sheppard's wife. He wanted to be prepared and prove to his bosses that he was an asset for their company.

And every evening, without fail, Jared walked past Misha's food cart. Even over the weekend, when he didn't go to work, he made sure to use the park exit near 79th Street when he came back from his run through Central Park.

And then proceeded to ignore Misha and Misha's little homeless friend.

Jared knew it was childish and petty but he didn't care. He was pissed and frustrated, and with every day he was forced to stay in Manhattan even though he should be with his family in Texas, he grew more spiteful. He couldn't take it out on his bosses, but he sure as hell could take it out on those weaker than him.

The worst part was that Misha, every evening without fail, offered him one of his soft pretzels--which Jared ignored, of course. And the very worst part was that this homeless guy, every evening without fail, wished Jared a good evening and, starting a couple of days before Christmas, happy holidays.

Jared felt like a heel, but he was too wrapped up in his own misery to stop being an asshole.

He was surprised by Sheppard's wife though. His bosses refused to let him near Sheppard, decided to woo the man themselves, but the wife was immediately pushed in Jared's direction. When he went to pick her up at the Four Seasons, he expected to find some young, blonde trophy wife. Instead, she turned out to be smart and funny, with a Masters degree in child psychology, who was far more interested in visiting little galleries and finding authentic, family-owned restaurants than going shopping on Fifth Avenue and drinking overpriced tea at the Russian Tea Room. She didn't need a limo services and preferred to walk everywhere on foot. She had down-to-earth tastes and enjoyed simpler pleasures. She insisted on strolling through Central Park for hours, just to enjoy the serenity and peacefulness. That alone made Jared like and respect her.

So, playing wife-sitter wasn't half bad, but it still didn't change the fact that he was _not_ going to spend Christmas with his family.

Sheppard had tickets to some Broadway show on Christmas Eve--Jared was convinced that his bosses had organized and then given them away as present--so he could return home at a reasonable hour. It was the first time in weeks that he took a cab home. He had insisted on flagging one down when it started to rain hard and he didn't want to deliver a thoroughly drenched wife to Sheppard, and then he just told the cabbie to take him home from the hotel.

He saw his answering machine blinking as soon as he entered his apartment. Jared found it odd to still use answering machines in times of smart phones and Skype, but his parents had insisted.

And, of course, the call was from his mother.

"Hi, honey. I was hoping to catch you in person but I guess your bosses make you work extra hard these days. I just wanted to call and hear your voice. I miss you. The whole family misses you." Her voice broke a little, and Jared was sure he could hear a soft sniffle. "Here's your father."

There was some rustling as the phone was transferred between hands.

"Jared, it's your father. We just decorated the tree and could've used you and your ridiculous height to put the angel on top of the tree. It's not the same without you here, son. Next year you'd better be home during the holidays. If your idiotic bosses won't give you time off, quit the damn job."

Jared choked on his surprised laughter. "Wish I could, Dad," he said softly.

There was more rustling and then his mother was back on the phone. "We all love you and miss you, honey. I hope you'll be home tomorrow at least. We'll call again in the morning so you can be there in spirit when we open the presents, okay?" 

Jared could hear his siblings, aunts and uncles in the background, singing carols and good-naturedly fighting over cookies and candy canes.

Then, with a chorus of "Bye, Jared!", the message ended.

Jared didn't even bother to wipe away the tears streaming down his face.

***

He was so homesick, it physically hurt.

Jared knew it was useless to call his parents back. He quickly calculated the time difference and realized that the entire family was on the way to church and would then walk around the neighborhood, caroling. It was one of the many Padalecki traditions he missed. And with their neighborhood being as tight-knit as it was, most people invited the carolers in for a slice of fruitcake or a glass of eggnog. His family wouldn't be home until way past his bedtime.

But Jared couldn't just stay in his apartment, his ridiculously bland, impersonal apartment, stylishly decorated with lots of glass and steel and leather, which was so unlike his personal taste for warm wood. It had come already furnished when he first rented it and that had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now he hated this place because it represented everything that wasn't home. He didn't even have a damn tree up because he had been convinced he'd spend Christmas in Texas. And then he didn't feel like buying a tree at the last moment.

He couldn't fly home because he was officially on stand-by in case Sheppard or his wife wanted something during the next few days. But there was one thing he could do: he could buy at least a tiny part of home.

Decision made, Jared grabbed his wallet and left the apartment.

***

Jared kind of expected that Misha would not be in his usual spot; it was late on Christmas Eve, after all. But when he crossed Fifth Avenue and saw the food cart, he smiled in relief.

It had finally stopped raining, though he couldn't help but sing-song under his breath, "The weather outside was frightful." Judging by the number of soft pretzels still on display, the frightful weather had been Misha's enemy.

"Mr. Jared!" Misha smiled brightly in greeting. "I did not expect to see you anymore. It is long past your usual time."

"I took a cab home." Jared shrugged, feeling suddenly tongue-tied. He had treated Misha so badly the last few days, and the man had nothing but a warm welcome for him. "Speaking of which, shouldn't you be home by now?"

Misha tilted his head to one side. "I wish I could go home but I did not make my quota for the day yet." He held out a pretzel. "Would you like one? It's on the house." He smiled warmly.

Jared eagerly grabbed the pretzel but pulled out his wallet. "No, Misha. I can't accept that." He knew how hard the man worked to make a better life for himself. Every dollar counted, and he was _not_ going to accept a freebie. 

Misha waved at the wallet. "I do not want your money, Mr. Jared. Consider it a Christmas present."

"Well, then consider _this_ to be _my_ Christmas present." Jared pulled out two fifty dollar bills and stuffed them into the tip jar. He gave Misha a hard glare, daring him to argue.

Misha was clearly overwhelmed by Jared's generosity and blinked back tears. "I can't accept this."

"If you don't want a Christmas present, then consider it reparation for the way I acted lately. I really do owe you an apology, Misha. I'm very sorry."

Misha shrugged. "You were homesick. I know you were talking about spending the holidays with your family but you are still here so something must have happened. You were frustrated and lashed out. We understand. We did not take it personally."

Jared bit off a large chunk of pretzel and closed his eyes in ecstasy when the flavor, so much like home, exploded on his tongue. "We?" he mumbled around his mouthful. "Who's we?"

"Jensen and I." Misha waved to the spot where the homeless man usually sat, and Jared realized for the first time that he was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's your friend?"

Misha's face fell and he bit his lower lip worriedly. "I am not entirely sure. I have not seen him at all today and that is very unusual. Jensen normally performs at the south end of Central Park, outside in good weather or in one of the subway stations in bad weather. Then he comes and joins me here around mid-afternoon."

"But he didn't drop by today?"

"No." Misha shook his head.

"Well, maybe he found a place to sleep early. I'm sure the shelters get really crowded around this time of year."

Misha shook his head again. "Jensen refuses to go to shelters. He was robbed there once and he is scared someone would steal his guitar. It's the only thing of value he still owns."

"Huh." Jared chewed the last bite of pretzel. "Where does he sleep then?"

Misha waved behind himself at the park entrance. "He says he has his own castle but I am not entirely sure what he means by that." Jared immediately had an idea but didn't get the chance to share it because Misha continued, somewhat reluctantly, "He is really sick. At first it was only a cold but the last couple of days he has been coughing very badly. I think he also has fever. I am really worried about him, Mr. Jared."

Jared nodded. He had noticed the glassy, feverish eyes and the bright red spots on the homeless man's cheeks. 

"Jensen was devastated when his voice disappeared." Misha waved at his throat. "At first he was just hoarse but then the voice was completely gone. And he was shivering all the time. Not because it was cold, but because he had..." Misha waved one hand around, searching for the right word.

"He probably had the chills," Jared offered. That didn't sound reassuring; chills usually meant high fever.

Misha nodded. "So he could not sing and he could barely play his guitar. And he was so hoping to get enough money together to go home in time for Christmas. Just like you."

"Oh? He's not from here?"

"No." Misha shook his head and smiled slightly. "He is from Texas, like you."

Jared stared at Misha for a few moments, thinking hard. "Give me a couple more of your pretzels," he finally said, pulling out another fifty. 

Misha saw the money and hesitated. "Mr. Jared..."

"Now, Misha."

Sighing softly, Misha picked up three pretzels. "One is on the house," he said stubbornly.

"If that makes you happy," Jared replied with a smile, taking the pretzels.

"Only a little bit." Misha eyed the money in his tip jar, which far outweighed the actual money he had made that day. "Thank you," he added softly.

"No, thank _you_ ," Jared said, reaching out to squeeze the other man's shoulder. "Do you have enough money to go home now? I don't want you to stand here for another minute."

Misha thought for a moment. "I think I'll be fine. Thank you."

"Good. Go home, take a hot shower and try to relax a little. Merry Christmas, my friend."

Misha looked surprised by this but his answering smile was brilliant. "Thank you again. And a very Merry Christmas to you, too." He began to pack up his food cart, and when he wasn't looking, Jared added another fifty to the tip jar.

***

It had to be Belvedere Castle.

Jared knew Central Park like the back of his hand. He had explored every little nook and cranny when he first moved to Manhattan, had tried out every possible route for his daily morning run, had visited every sight and meadow and lake.

If the homeless guy--Jensen--said he had his own castle, then it had to be Belvedere.

At least Jared hoped it was, because he didn't relish the thought of trekking all the way up north to Fort Clinton or Block House No. 1 near Harlem. Neither might be an actual castle, but to a homeless man, even an old shack like Block House No. 1 could be a palace. Jared knew that Block House No. 1 was locked up, but he had once tried to get inside just for the heck of it, and he knew that if a person really set their mind to it, they would manage to seek shelter inside.

No. It was Belvedere Castle. It had to be.

Jared jogged down the 79th Street Transverse, crossed East Drive and then took the stone stairs to get to the small footpath that led to Belvedere Castle.

And suddenly he realized just how big this place was, with numerous nooks to hide in.

Of course, the fact that it was already dark outside didn't really make his search any easier.

***

It took Jared a good twenty minutes until he found Jensen. 

Jensen had managed to make himself a little nest in a well hidden part of shrubbery below Belvedere Castle, complete with sleeping bag and even a blanket. It looked somewhat safe and even a little cozy, but the temperatures kept dropping, it was cold and damp from the rain, and this was clearly not the place to be for a sick man.

Jared hunkered down near the nest and smiled warmly. "Hey, Jensen. I'm glad I finally found you."

Jensen startled awake and looked around frantically. It took him a few moments to focus on Jared, and once he realized that someone was threateningly close to him, he tensed.

Jared held up one hand. "It's okay. Please don't be scared. It's me. Jared. You remember me, right?"

Jensen blinked sluggishly. After a couple of seconds, he nodded slowly, though the look on his face clearly said that he wasn't sure if Jared was real or just a fever-induced hallucination.

"Great. Listen. This might sound like an odd request, but why don't you come on out of there, hmm?" Jared offered his hand to help Jensen climb out of his nest but Jensen just shook his head.

"Home," he croaked, indicating his nest.

"Well, yes, I can see that. And nobody's going to take it away from you. But see, you're really sick and I think sleeping in a cold and damp place isn't going to help you get any better."

As if on cue, Jensen's body was wrecked by a nasty cough that hurt Jared's ribcage just by listening.

"Come on, Jensen. Let's get you somewhere warm and dry, okay?"

Jensen just frowned at him in distrust.

"Misha is very worried about you." Jared knew it was a low blow to use Jensen's friend like that, but short of dragging the homeless man out of his nest by his feet, he was running out of ideas.

Jensen's eyes widened at that. "Misha?" he whispered.

Jared nodded. "Here, this is for you." He held out one of the pretzels he had bought. When Jensen hesitated, he asked, "When was the last time you ate something?"

Jensen's stomach growled in response. A second later, Jensen snatched the pretzel out of Jared's hand.

"Good." Jared looked pleased. "Now, about you and this warm and dry place I was talking about..."

"Where?" Jensen croaked around a mouthful.

Jared shrugged. "My apartment."

Jensen immediately tensed again.

"I'm only offering a place to stay. No ulterior motive. I swear."

Jensen still wasn't convinced. "Why?"

Jared shrugged. "My good deed for the day?" He smiled, but when he saw that Jensen wasn't buying it, he grew serious again. "Call it a Christmas miracle, if you like. I just don't want a fellow Texan to die from pneumonia out here in this goddamn city."

That brought the slightest smile to Jensen's lips.

"You're not surprised to hear I'm also from Texas?"

Jensen shook his head. "Knew it," he croaked, pointing at his throat. "Heard the twang whenever you got angry."

"And that happened a lot lately, didn't it?" Jared looked ashamed. "I'm sorry about the way I treated you. That wasn't nice of me, and it was definitely not fair to you."

Jensen shrugged. "Used to it," he said softly. "People look down on folks like me."

Jared's heart broke a little at that. Everyone had a story to tell, and he was sure that Jensen's story about how he ended up in New York was an interesting one. Some people were lucky, some people weren't. But that really was no reason to treat them any less than with kindness and compassion.

He really still had a lot to learn from Misha, who was the perfect example of how to be a decent human being. 

But he could start with small steps. He couldn't save everyone, but he could at least help Jensen.

"So, ready to come with me?" Jared held his hand out again invitingly. When he saw Jensen still hesitating, he added, "I'm sure your guitar could use a break as well. Lying on the cold, damp ground can't be good for such a beauty."

Jensen looked at his guitar, guilt flashing across his face. "My father gave it to me when I turned sixteen," he whispered. "It was his." He picked it up from the ground and gently caressed it. Apparently coming to the same conclusion Jared had mentioned, Jensen crawled out of his nest, the guitar safely held in his arms. "For my guitar," he said stubbornly.

"Of course." Jared smiled and stood up. The way Jensen's voice was breaking and his labored breathing really worried Jared. The man needed medical attention. But first things first. "You okay with walking or should I call a cab?"

Jensen raised his chin. "Walk."

Jared smiled at the stubbornness. "You got it."

***

It took them longer than expected to get to Jared's apartment building. Halfway through Central Park, Jared took over carrying Jensen's guitar because the man kept bending over with coughing fits and could barely walk a straight line. Jared kept a protective hand close to Jensen's back, just in case he needed to catch him. Jensen stumbled the last couple of hundred yards down 80th Street but stubbornly refused any help.

"It's a walk-up," Jared said apologetically. "But I'm only on the third floor. Think you'll be able to manage?"

Jensen nodded and slowly made his way up the stairs, holding on tight to the wall.

***

"Nice digs," Jensen commented when they entered the apartment.

"It's small but it's mine. And there's no need to be polite, the digs are atrocious." Jared grinned at the 'caught in a lie' look on Jensen's face. "Well, more precisely, the furnishing is. I prefer natural material, like wood or stone. Not this." He waved at the leather couch and glass table in the living room.

Jensen nodded. "Me, too," he whispered.

"Okay." Jared carefully placed the guitar down and then steered Jensen toward his bedroom. When he felt Jensen stiffen, he chuckled softly. "I promise, no nefarious reasons. But my bathroom is an en-suite. So, come on." He led Jensen through his bedroom and into the small bathroom. "Do you think you're strong enough to take a shower?"

Jensen stared longingly at the shower stall. He nodded slowly.

"Buddy, you're swaying on your feet. I don't want you to collapse."

"No, I'm okay." Jensen reached out to steady himself on the vanity, belying his words, but he gave Jared a stubborn look, as if daring him to argue.

Not entirely sure it was a good idea, Jared finally just nodded. "Okay. Because I really think a hot shower will help you. Take as long as you want. Do you need my help undressing?"

Jensen immediately shook his head.

"Okay, fine." Jared chuckled again. "I'll get you some fresh towels. Do not, under any circumstances, completely close the door. I want to hear you in case you have to call for help, all right?"

Jensen looked unconvinced but nodded anyway. Then he began to slowly unbutton his jacket.

Jared left the bathroom and busied himself with putting clean sheets on his bed. Once he heard the water running in the shower, he walked back into the bathroom and placed towels on the vanity. "Here are your towels," he said, raising his voice so Jensen could hear him over the spray. "I also brought you some of my clothes. They'll be too big probably but they're warm and clean." He added a new toothbrush and a disposable razor to the towels and then went to raid his kitchen for something to eat for Jensen.

Since Jared usually ate out or, on rare occasions, ordered something in, his kitchen and pantry looked painfully empty. After searching for a minute or so, he found a couple of cans of Campbell's soup. He grinned slightly as he took them out of the cupboard. His mother had always insisted on having some canned soup at home, "just in case of an emergency".

"Bless you, mom."

Jared idly wondered which soup was more to Jensen's liking--cream mushroom or tomato--and then figured that the man must be hungry enough to eat an elephant and probably didn't care.

In the end, he decided to heat up the cream mushroom because the chances of the tomato soup stinging a potentially inflamed throat were higher. 

Jared kept an eye on the bathroom and smiled sadly to himself when he realized that Jensen was still showering after fifteen minutes. Not that he blamed the guy--this was probably the first hot shower Jensen had in ages.

There was really only one thing left to do. Jared grabbed his cell phone.

"Hey, Felicia. Miss me?"

"What do you want, Jared?"

Jared smiled at the snarky reply. He knew that Felicia was only kidding. "I have a huge favor to ask of you. There's someone here I'd like you to take a look at."

There was silence for a few moments.

"I know it's Christmas Eve and you probably have plans, but I wouldn't ask if it weren't important."

"Okay. How far along is she? Because if she's already having contractions, you'd better get her to a hospital."

Jared chuckled. "No, it's not a woman. It's a guy. He's got a really nasty cough and probably high fever. I hope it's just bronchitis but if it's pneumonia..." He swallowed hard. "I don't want to haul him to emergency care unless I really have to."

"You do know I'm a gynecologist, right?"

"You're an MD. You can diagnose bronchitis and pneumonia, can't you?"

There were a few more moments of silence. "I'll be there in twenty." 

Before Jared could reply, Felicia had hung up. Jared didn't mind, though. He knew that she could be a little abrupt at times. It was part of her charm.

With the phone call taken care of, Jared focused on stirring the soup. The shower had stopped running while he was talking with Felicia, so he expected Jensen to walk out of the bathroom any moment now.

It still took several minutes until Jensen, now clad in fleece jogging pants, a hoodie and thick socks, came into the kitchen. The clothes were at least two sizes too big, but he looked perfectly happy to wear them.

Jared gasped softly when he got his first good look at a freshly scrubbed--and shaved--Jensen. The man looked gorgeous, despite his sickly white skin and the dark rings under his eyes. Jared was completely taken by the freckles and the vivid green of Jensen's eyes.

"Thank you for the clothes," Jensen rasped before doubling over with a nasty coughing fit. 

Jared grimaced in sympathy. "You're very welcome. How did the shower feel?"

"Perfect." Jensen carefully took a couple of deep breaths. Jared could hear the wet rattling sound all across the kitchen. "I think I used up all of the hot water though. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. That's what the shower was for." He poured the soup into a bowl. "Here, something to warm you up from the inside."

Jensen's eyes widened and his stomach growled. "You're very generous."

"Only trying to make up for being such a big asshole."

The right corner of Jensen's mouth lifted up. "You're doing a good job." He took the bowl and carefully sat down at the breakfast bar. "Thank you."

"De nada."

***

Jensen was scraping the last bits of soup out of the bowl when the doorbell rang. He looked up in confusion.

"That's my friend Felicia. Don't worry."

Jensen didn't look entirely reassured but finished his soup while Jared went to open the door.

"Hey, Jensen. This is Felicia."

Jensen looked up to find a petite red-head smiling at him.

"Hi, I'm Felicia. Jensen? That's an unusual name but I like it."

Jensen hesitantly reached out to shake the offered hand. "Hello," he croaked.

"Oh yeah, I can hear the problem." Felicia placed a small black bag on the table. "Jensen, I'm a doctor. Okay, granted, I'm usually an OB/GYN but I freelance as a superhero-slash-general-practitioner at night for friends in need." She smiled at Jensen's wide-eyed look. "Would you mind if I gave you a quick examination?"

"I..." Jensen's eyes darted from Felicia to Jared and back. "I can't... I don't have any money to pay you."

"Oh, don't worry about that." Felicia made a throwing away motion and opened her doctor's bag. "Jared's gonna pay by taking me out to dinner."

Jensen's eyes widened even more.

"And none of those cheap Chinese places either. I want something fancy."

Jensen looked shocked and shook his head. "I can't..."

Jared saw the worry in Jensen's eyes and hastened to reassure him. "She's only joking."

"No, I'm not."

"Felicia." Jared gave her a stern look. Then he turned to Jensen. "She's not joking about the dinner invitation--"

"--or it being a fancy restaurant," Felicia threw in.

"But that's okay because I don't mind taking her out to dinner, and anyway, it's a small price to pay for the favor she's doing me."

Jensen just continued to stare.

"Felicia used to be my downstairs neighbor until she moved out a few months ago. She now lives with her girlfriend a few blocks away." Jared inclined his head at Felicia. "Of course I'll invite you both to dinner."

"Of course you will." Felicia grinned and pulled out a stethoscope. "So, Jensen, would you mind if I had a quick look at you?"

Still clearly overwhelmed by the situation, Jensen could only nod. He racked up the hoodie for easier access and Felicia listened to his lungs.

"Yeah, that really doesn't sound good. When you cough up stuff, is it green or rusty?"

Jensen thought for a moment. "Green." 

"Do you have chills? Like, really teeth-chattering, shaking chills?"

He nodded again.

"You're feeling very tired or weak? And you're short of breath? Your ribcage hurts when you breathe?" When Jensen nodded in the affirmative to all questions, Felicia asked, "But you don't really have a sore throat? Or have muscle aches?"

Jensen frowned in thought but then shook his head.

Felicia took out a thermometer and put it into Jensen's ear for a quick reading. "102. That's not good but it's also nothing to be alarmed about." She gave Jensen a reassuring smile. "Looks like pneumonia to me."

Jared looked worried. "Pneumonia?"

"Yeah. If he had bronchitis, he'd probably have a sore throat and muscle aches, which he says he doesn't. Bronchitis usually doesn't come with fever, which he clearly has. And green mucus means it's bacterial pneumonia, not nonbacterial."

"But...do we need to go to the hospital?"

Felicia shook her head. "No, I don't think so. We can treat this here. Just keep an eye on him and if things don't get better in the next few days or things get visibly worse, call me."

"You sure? That's it?"

Felicia was clearly charmed by Jared's worry. "Yes, I'm sure. I'll give you a prescription for a broad-spectrum antibiotic that you should have filled tonight, if at all possible. Other than that, he just needs plenty of rest." She looked at Jensen. "Drink plenty of fluids. Take some aspirin or Tylenol to ease the pain and reduce the fever, and some cough suppressants in case the cough keeps you awake. You do need rest so try to get a good night's sleep. Sleep really is the best medicine." She put the thermometer and stethoscope away. "Only take the cough suppressants at night. During the day, cough as much of that nasty mucus up as you can. You hear me?"

Jensen wrinkled his nose but dutifully nodded.

"Ew, Felicia. Gross."

"You should see some of the stuff that comes out of women during childbirth, Padalecki." She smirked at the look of horror on Jared's face. She shook Jensen's hand. "It was good to meet you. Get well soon, and if you need to see me again, don't hesitate to call, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

"You're adorable." Felicia barely resisted from pinching Jensen's cheeks. Instead, she gave Jared the prescription and raised an eyebrow. "I expect daily updates."

Jared nodded and thanked her profusely. 

After Felicia had shown herself out, Jared turned to Jensen, who still looked slightly shell-shocked by everything. "I'm going to get this prescription filled. There's a pharmacy only a few blocks away so it shouldn't take long." He gestured in the direction of the bedroom. "I put clean sheets on the bed and you're welcome to sleep in it. I don't have a guest room but I don't mind sleeping on the couch for now."

Jensen opened his mouth to protest but Jared held up a warning finger. "No argument. There's plenty of water in the fridge. Drink. Doctor's orders. And when you're still hungry, there's more soup in the cupboard, so feel free to nuke it. Is there anything else you'd like to eat? I can make a quick grocery run while I'm out."

Jensen just shook his head slowly, still clearly overwhelmed.

"Okay, well. In that case, rest and take it easy. I'll be back before you know it."

***

Despite his reassurances, it still took Jared almost an hour to get the antibiotics and buy some groceries. He wanted to have at least the bare essentials at home, make pancakes or scrambled eggs in the morning, and be able to eat at least a simple but festive meal later on.

When he came back home, his apartment was dark and quiet. For a long moment, Jared's heart sank because he was sure Jensen had bolted. But then he saw the guitar still leaning against the wall and he knew Jensen would never leave without his most treasured possession.

Jared tip-toed into his bedroom but his bed was empty. He frowned in confusion and walked back into the living room. Then he saw Jensen, curled up slightly on the couch, wrapped up in the afghan Jared usually kept there, deeply asleep.

"Stubborn son of a bitch," Jared whispered with a shake of his head. He smiled softly at the peaceful look on Jensen's face. Even though he knew that Jensen needed to take his meds, he didn't have the heart to wake him. Jensen needed sleep as well, after all, and Jared figured it wouldn't kill the other man to wait until the next morning to start his treatment.

Just to be on the safe side, he placed the meds on the coffee table, next to a bottle of water, so Jensen could take the antibiotics if he woke up in the middle of the night. Then he went to bed.

***

It was the most unusual Christmas Day Jared had ever experienced, but he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

Jensen still felt like crap and was coughing constantly, but his fever was down and he was slowly but surely coming out of his shell. Talking for longer periods of time caused nasty coughing fits, so Jensen kept his part of their conversation short and to the point, but even in the short amount of time they spent together, Jared got to know the other man really well. 

At the end of the day, he felt as if he had known Jensen all his life.

And he was devastated by Jensen's life story.

"They kicked me out on my eighteenth birthday because I came out to them."

"Your own parents kicked you out because you were gay?" Jared was outraged. 

Jensen nodded. "God-loving Catholics and sodomites don't mix well."

"I'm so sorry."

Jensen shrugged. "It was a long time ago."

Jared thought that he had the best parents in the world because they would never treat any of their children like that. "So, why New York?"

Jensen chuckled, which promptly turned into a coughing fit. "Doesn't everyone want to come here and make it big?"

Jared grimaced at that. Those had been his exact words when he left home. However, unlike Jensen, he had managed to make it big.

"I was doing okay at first. Jobbed as a bus boy and as a cashier. I scraped by. All I really wanted to do was make music anyway." Jensen looked longingly at his guitar. "Then I lost first one job, then the other. Couldn't find new ones. Lost the room I was renting 'cause I couldn't pay the rent anymore. All went downhill from there."

"Ever thought of going back home? Misha mentioned something like that."

Jensen nodded. "I want to. I hate it here. Too loud, too crowded. Everything's so damn expensive. I barely make enough to buy food."

Jared made a healthy living, and although he had an apartment in an expensive neighborhood, he didn't have an extravagant lifestyle to support and easily lived within his means. But he could imagine how difficult it was to make ends meet. When a damn soft pretzel already cost three bucks, it was going to be impossible to buy a decent meal without any regular income.

"When you're homeless, it's impossible to find a job. I could try to squat at a friend's place or something and make minimum wage in Texas. Probably gonna be easier to find a job there."

"But you never made enough to go back home?"

Jensen shook his head. "Was saving every penny I made for a bus ticket, but got mugged a few weeks ago and lost everything."

Jared was devastated. He remembered seeing Jensen a few weeks ago, sitting in his customary spot near Misha's food cart, his face bruised and swollen. At the time, he had thought it served him right. A squabble between bums, probably due to excessive alcohol consumption. "Did they find the muggers? Do you know them?"

Jensen shook his head. "Just a bunch of bored college kids looking for a cheap thrill." He shivered and wrapped a blanket around his body. 

Jared wondered if it was due to the chills or the shocking memory of the mugging. "I'm so sorry."

"Not your fault."

"Yeah well, but still. I just wish I could've done something."

Jensen smiled softly at that. "You're already doing so much." He plucked on the hoodie he was wearing and nodded at the medication on the coffee table in front of him. "I'll never be able to repay you."

Jared realized that this was something that really bothered Jensen. The man still had his pride, and he had mentioned more than once that he didn't want charity. "Maybe you could teach me how to play guitar?" he offered.

Jensen looked surprised. "You'd like that?"

"I'd love it. My parents made me learn to play piano but I always wanted to play the guitar." Jared grinned. "Or drums."

Jensen smiled at that. "Drums are pretty cool." He looked at his guitar. "I'd be happy to teach you."

Jared thought for a long moment. "Would you consider giving me official lessons? That I'd pay you for? Fair warning though, I'm a slow learner."

Jensen could see right through Jared's ploy. He gave him a long look. "Jared..."

"I'm serious."

Jensen still didn't look convinced. "But only until I have enough money to go back to Texas."

"You got it." Jared scratched his chin contemplatively. "Any idea where you wanna go in Texas?"

Jensen shrugged. "Not back home," he said decisively. "Maybe Austin. There's a great music scene there and I know an old high school buddy lives there. Maybe I could hang with him till I'm back on my own feet."

Jared looked excited. "I've always wanted to move to Austin, too," he said. "I have a few college friends living there." He suddenly had an idea. "I could introduce you guys. Maybe you could give their children guitar lessons. One of my friends owns a restaurant. I'm sure you could work there."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Jensen shook his head. "Time-out. Slow down."

"I'm just trying to help."

"And I appreciate that. I really do. But before you set me up for a job interview a few thousand miles away, let me get better first?" Jensen reached for his antibiotics.

Jared chuckled. "Point taken. Maybe I should let you take a nap." He got off the couch, giving Jensen room to lie down. "I'll see if I can cook us something without setting the kitchen on fire."

***

It took Jensen a week to fully recover, but Jared insisted that he stay in his apartment. The weather had turned into a freezing mess, and there was no way Jared would let Jensen sleep outside.

His bosses insisted on Jared being present at the company's New Year's Eve party where they continued to suck up to Sheppard. At least the man had finally signed the contract, also thanks to his wife raving about Jared. In fact, Sheppard insisted on Jared being assigned to the team that was taking care of his account. Jared had no idea what he had done to get Sheppard to forgive him his original fuck up, but the way Sheppard was treating him now, he seemed to be his fan. It should have been a big moment of triumph for Jared. Instead, he felt miserable.

"You're about a million miles away. Is everything all right?"

Jared startled. "Oh, hi, Mrs. Sheppard. My apologies. I was just thinking."

"Hmm-hmm. Thinking of someone special?" She smiled and gave him a quick wink.

"Someone very special, yes. Though probably not the way you think." Jared imagined Jensen sitting in his apartment, all alone, probably about to watch the damn ball drop on Jared's ridiculously large TV screen. 

In a way, Jared had never felt lonelier, even though he was surrounded by dozens of people.

"You know, many people couldn't understand why I got together with Mark. We're so different, our personalities, our ages, our background. But it just clicked between us. I've learned early on to always follow my heart. It's the only way to be truly happy in life." She smiled warmly at Jared and patted his chest.

Jared thought long and hard about this and then nodded. "You know what, Mrs. Sheppard? You're absolutely right." He leaned down to give her a quick kiss on her cheek. "Thank you for being so awesome." He turned around and walked toward the exit, but one of his bosses saw him and ran to stop him.

"What are you doing, Padalecki?"

"I'm going home, Mr. Morgan."

Morgan's eyes narrowed. "This is a mandatory company function. If you leave these premises, don't bother to come back."

Jared snorted at that. It was the perfect opening. "Well, in that case: I quit." He grabbed his coat and walked out of the building, never looking back.

 

He got home just in time to open the bottle of champagne he had bought on the way and then clink his glass with Jensen's when the ball dropped on the TV screen. They toasted to new beginnings and shared a first kiss.

***

Two days later, Jared took Jensen to the bus station.

"Are you sure you don't want to fly? I can buy you a plane ticket."

"No." Jensen had that stubborn look on his face that Jared slowly began to fall in love with. "I hate flying."

"And you don't want to add more money to the tally than absolutely necessary." Jared smiled softly.

"I _will_ pay back every cent you spent on me." Jensen patted the brand-new winter coat he was wearing. Jared had taken him on a little shopping spree, buying new clothes and a pair of sturdy boots. Then there was the medication, the food, the bus ticket. "I'm keeping a tally, you know?"

"I know." Jared shook his head in amused exasperation. "You got the list?" He had written down the names, addresses and phone numbers of his college friends, had even called them ahead of time to tell them that Jensen was coming and that he would appreciate some help. His friends were only too happy to meet Jensen.

"Got it, yes."

"Good. Now take this." Jared thrust a stack of twenties and fifties into Jensen's hand. "It's a loan until you get your first paycheck."

"But I--"

"Just say thank you, Jensen."

Jensen sighed but already knew there was no talking Jared out of it. "Thank you, Jensen," he said dutifully.

"Good. Now, I've got a couple of job interviews lined up in Austin next week so no moping. We'll see each other again in a few days."

"And with a bit of luck, you'll move to Austin soon after."

Jared smiled. "That's the plan."

Jensen looked sad. "I'll miss you."

"Well, I'll miss you more."

"Everything's a contest for you, isn't it?"

"Yes." Jared grinned, showing his dimples. "Now get on that bus before I haul your ass back to my apartment."

Jensen waggled his eyebrows but made to climb into the bus. He stopped midway through, turned around and threw himself at Jared. "Next week," he whispered fiercely, and stole a kiss. Then he jumped into the bus before he could change his mind.

Jared waited until the bus left the depot and then made his way back to his now very empty apartment. He still had a ton of things to do before his trip to Austin the following week.

"To new beginnings," he whispered to himself, and it felt absolutely liberating.

THE END


End file.
